Master and Servant of the Land

Chorus

You’ll be the master o’ the horse and master o’ the plough,
But you’ll aye jist be a servant, tae the seeds that you will sow.

He wis master he wis servant, o’ the land beneath his feet,
The soil and toil at Clochnahill, wis for his family tae feed,
As the master he would tame the land, reclaim it frae the braes,
But he’d aye jist be a servant tae the cauld unyielding clay.

Chorus

Knockhill and Brawliemuir, were where his ancestors had toiled,
The reclaiming and the draining, tae farm in better soil,
Where the Bervie water flowed, on its way down tae the sea,
Through the Parish of Glenbervie, the Fatherland country.

Chorus

The Burnes men now they were proud, and lived by God’s own word,
Never asking for that muckle, working hours baith long and hard,
And daily were reminded, as they tilled the Mearns earth,
That they were shackled tae that land, frae their very day of birth.

Chorus

They battled wi’ the land, for the meagre living they could earn,
The rain and damp and frost, would be the master of their corn,
Their seeds would rot and die, aneath that cauld and barren soil,
But the Burnes men leaned tae the plough wi’ harder work and toil.

Chorus

Frae Dunnottar tae Bogjorgan, they tilled and ploughed that land,
As winter came and rent wis due, for their Maister’s outstretched hand,
The fearful choice that faced them, was a stark and honest truth,
To bide here in the Mearns, or try their fortune further Sooth.

Chorus

So the brothers they decided, that there wis nae other choice,
As they parted on the Garvock, they could hear their father’s voice,
“Always dae yir best ma lads, and spare me a thocht or two,
You’ll be the maister and the servant, as you follow horse and ploo.”